


words have no meaning if i couldnt share them with him

by theknightofdoom



Series: DAVEKAT WEEK 2015 [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canon Compliant, Davekat Week, Day 6, Death, M/M, Sadstuck, after final battle, davekat - Freeform, end of game i guess?, idk - Freeform, karkats dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4729073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theknightofdoom/pseuds/theknightofdoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>karkat was dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	words have no meaning if i couldnt share them with him

**Author's Note:**

> uhhmhmhmmhmhmh i wasnt really up to write a fic at all LMAAAAAAO so this is even worse than my usual drivel but whatcha gonna do man
> 
> sorry it sucks and is very unoriginal and BLEGH but i promised myself id write something for everyday of davekat week to battle this damned depression *shakes fist angrily* geT OFF MY LAWN, DEPRESSION
> 
> the lawn is my mind and motivation to do anything other than read and sleep btw
> 
> \---> EDITED: i made the fic proper grammar because i felt like it. i also edited it for more coherency and because i hate this fic but what can you do

Karkat was dead.

I had seen a lot of dead bodies in my time. The dead bodies of my friends, my "family", fuck, I'd seen so many dead versions of myself that I'd stopped counting. When it came to it, I was used to looking at lifeless corpses and accepting, well shit, they're gone for good. In fact, I was more than just used to it. I was practiced, experienced; to me, death was often a gimmick that had no consequence. 

But I couldn't accept this. This was no gimmick, this was not consequence-less. 

We had talked just a few hours ago. We'd sat together and joked and acted like everything was okay, because in a way, it was. How is it now, he could be lying in a pool of his own blood?

God, he would hate this. Even though he said he got over the whole blood thing, didn't bring it up anymore, I knew on some level he still hated the fact that was he "unnatural". Growing up thinking you were worthless til you hate yourself was something I knew from experience didn't go away easy.

I didn't even register how he had died, because I was already on my knees beside his empty husk and grabbing at him blindly. Maybe he was still alive, maybe I could save him. Maybe it would all be okay.

Oh shit, he was so cold. Karkat had always been warm, almost unbearably so. He said it was a troll thing; the lower the blood caste, the warmer the body. We used to lie together under the covers of my bed whenever I felt the cold of the meteor begin to settle in my bones. His heat bubbled us in, our own little sauna, somewhere quiet and safe. Now he was cold. Now he was dead.

He couldn't be dead though.

I wasn't sure when I started crying, but now my face was wet and I could barely see past the blurry smudged mess of my shades and his blood, fuck that was a lot of blood, it was all over my hands and arms and chest. I was just hugging him to me, crying against him because it was too late. It was my fault. I wasn't there and he died alone.

We promised we'd never let the other be alone again. I left him alone and he died, and in return, he left me alone forever. 

Losing track of time wasn't my thing, but I didn't know how long I just cried by him, lost to the toiling seas of grief.

Couldn't he just sit up and roll his bright eyes and wrinkle his nose a little how he always does when he laughs at me?

"It's just grubsauce, dumbass."

It wasn't just grubsauce. 

The others came. Maybe they were crying, or shouting, trying to talk to me. I could feel hands. Someone was sitting next to me. People coming, people going. Voice, hands on me, on him, in the air as if grasping for reason or hope. There would be none. Their hands were warm, but not as warm as he should of been.

What was the point, if he wasn't here?

Did winning the game even matter if Karkat couldn't grin that rare grin of his, just a little bit smug. The way he'd play it cool by wiping his sickles nonchalantly, but when he spoke his voice would quiver with emotion trapped within his throat. We would never get to run to each other and kiss and smile and say, fuck, I love you, because it was finally over. He'd never know.

It wasn't winning if Karkat wasn't winning with me. It was just another pointless mark on a tally that I didn't care about being able to strap on my belt. What kind of world would the new one be without him? It didn't sound like a world I wanted to be in. It didn't feel like a place I wanted to see. It seemed empty and sad and desolate and cold.

Kissing his forehead for one last time, I look at his face, so peaceful, almost like he was asleep, and I get up.

I don't know where I'm going. I don't care.

Voices call after me, but I don't listen. Words had no meaning if I couldn't share them with him, for I did not even deserve their use. I didn't even use them to tell him, properly, how much I loved him.


End file.
